


Clarissa Lies

by thesun_and_theotherstars



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Artist: Jason Michael Carroll, Clary Fray & Isabelle Lightwood Friendship, Gen, Good Parent Robert Lightwood, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, No Romance, Song: Alyssa Lies, Songfic, no beta we die like livvy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28797222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesun_and_theotherstars/pseuds/thesun_and_theotherstars
Summary: but she came home with tear-filled eyes / and she said to me, "Daddy, Alyssa lies." AU/AH/Songfic/Oneshot/Cross-posted on FFN





	Clarissa Lies

On a normal Friday afternoon, Isabelle Lightwood would come bounding through the door ahead of her brothers, ready and excited for a weekend of playing dress up and exploring the woods behind their house. She might have been a year younger than Alec and Jace, but she more than held her own with the boys, in more ways than one.  
  
This Friday, though, was different.  
  
When the school bus pulled up to 255 Eastwood Drive, the Lightwood sons ran off, full of pre-weekend energy per usual. A few beats passed before Isabelle trudged down the bus stairs. Her shoulders were slumped and her Bratz backpack hung from the crooks of her elbows. She was staring resolutely at her shoes, kicking up dirt as she made her way from the road to their driveway.   
  
Robert Lightwood watched from the bay window, hands clasped behind his back. He smiled fondly as Jace and Alec came up the walk, shoving each other forward with an affection reserved for eight-year-olds. A frown creased his face when his eyes fell on his daughter. He pursed his lips and moved to open the front door. Jace and Alec blew by in a flurry of lunch boxes and jackets.  
  
"No running in the house," Robert called after their retreating figures. "And mind your mother's vases!"  
  
Isabelle's backpack hit the foyer floor with a thunk. Robert raised an eyebrow; she knew perfectly well that she couldn't leave it there unless she wanted a lecture from her mother. "Aren't you just a little ray of sunshine today. What's with the long face?"  
  
Isabelle pressed her chin against her chest and mumbled unintelligibly into her sweater.   
  
"Chin up princess, or the crown slips." Robert used two fingers to tilt Isabelle's head so she was looking at him. His frown deepened as he noted her downturned mouth and glassy eyes. He squatted down so they were eye to eye and wrapped her hands with his. "What's wrong pumpkin?"  
  
"I met a new girl at school this week." Isabelle sniffled, scrunched up her nose and blinking rapidly. "Clarissa."  
  
"Well, was she mean to you?" Isabelle shook her head. "Then why are you sad?"  
  
Isabelle's lip quivered. "Because Clarissa lies."  
  
Robert's mouth quirked up at the side. His daughter had always been such a drama queen. They'd talk about this for a few minutes and Isabelle would be back to her usual feisty self. He tugged Isabelle over to the kitchen table and sat her on his lap, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.  
  
"You can tell me, sweetheart."

* * *

_Recess was Isabelle's favorite part of school. It wasn't that she had a hard time with any of her schoolwork, because she didn't. But she didn't see the point of science or English when all she wanted to do was design her own clothes. Recess was the best because she could draw her ideas in her notebook or, if her friends weren't running around after boys, she could practice styling their hair. Today, she had her eye on the new girl. Her hair was longer than any that Isabelle had ever played with._

_As soon as the bell rang, Isabelle was out the door, eyes scanning the masses of children. She finally spotted the shock of red hair disappearing into the playground. Chasing after her, Isabelle managed to corner the girl between the tire set and the swings._   
  
_"Hey!" The girl jumped, sending her crown of curls flying. When she turned around her eyes were wide. Isabelle gave her a big smile, the kind her dad said could get her anything she wanted. "I'm Isabelle. You're Clarissa, right?"_   
  
_The girl nodded, tugging on the cuffs of her jacket, even though the sleeves almost covered her hands._   
  
_"Can I braid your hair?" Clarissa frowned and Isabelle's heart fell—she probably didn't want a stranger playing with her hair._

  
_"You want—you want to braid my hair?" Clarissa's voice was soft, barely a whisper, and hesitant. Isabelle nodded. "Okay."_   
  
_Isabelle squealed and clasped her hands together. She reached out and grabbed Clarissa's wrist, intent on pulling her to the bench with the best light, but when their skin met Clarissa flinched and pulled away. Isabelle, impatient now that she knew she would get to play with Clarissa's beautiful hair, went to grab her again. This time though, her eyes followed her hand and she saw the dark purple marks that circled Clarissa's wrist._   
  
_Clarissa was quick to yank the cuff of her jacket down, but the damage was done. Isabelle stared at her with wide eyes and Clarissa matched the expression, biting her lip._

  
_"I uhh...I fell on the way to school. I'm very—I’m very clumsy." Clarissa's eyes darted around, looking everywhere except at Isabelle. She wrapped her arms around her waist, holding herself together as she made to turn away._   
  
_"Wait!" She looked back at Isabelle with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. Isabelle waved her hand, smiling again. "I still want to braid your hair."_

* * *

That night, Robert tucked Isabelle in to sleep. She snuggled down under her purple butterfly comforter and he pressed a kiss to her hair, still damp from the bath. He flicked off the overhead light, leaving only a soft glow from her nightlight. Robert was out in the hallway, door all but closed when he heard the whispers.  
  
"God, bless my mommy and daddy. And please keep my new friend Clarissa safe, because I know that she needs your help."  
  
Robert leaned his head against the door, letting out a weary sigh. He needed a drink.  
  
Maryse raised an eyebrow when he went straight for the bourbon. "Rough day?"  
  
"Not for me." Robert tipped back the glass, letting the liquor burn down his throat in one gulp before refilling it. "Isabelle."  
  
Maryse snorted, taking a slow sip from her glass of wine. "And how do the problems of a second grader lead to hard alcohol?"  
  
Robert swirled his glass, staring into the vortex. "She told me about a girl at school. From what she said, there were some bruises and no real explanation for how they got there."  
  
Maryse inhaled sharply and set her glass on the coffee table with a clink. "What are you going to do?"  
  
"I don't know." Shaking his head, Robert took another gulp of his drink. "She's so worried, but what if it's nothing? I don't want to ruin someone's life."  
  
"Let's sleep on it." Maryse gently tugged Robert's empty glass from his hand, placing it in the sink next to her own. "You'll figure it out before Monday."  
  
Robert ran a hand across his face and nodded, following his wife up to their room for what was sure to be a restless night.

* * *

" _Alright class!" Mrs. Branwell clapped her hands together, drawing her students' attention away from their art projects. "Time to clean up to go home."_  
  
 _There was a flurry of activity as the students hurried to put away their paints and markers and collect their jackets from their cubbies._  
  
 _"Clarissa, may I have a word?" A chorus of ‘ohhhhhhhh’ rang out among the students as Clarissa flushed dark red. She followed Mrs. Branwell out into the hallway, looking far more morose than and second-grader ever should. Isabelle, never one to mind her own business, ducked over by the door, pretending to empty her pencil sharpener into the trash can._  
  
 _"Don't worry dear, you're not in trouble." Through the window on the door, Isabelle saw her teacher squat down to Clarissa's eye level. "I just wanted to ask how you got these bruises on your leg."_  
  
 _Clarissa flinched, eyes widening. She tugged on the sweater dress she was wearing, pulling it down so it hid the purple marks on her upper thighs. "Um, well, I—actually, my brother and I were just playing soccer and he, um, he hit me with the ball a few—a few times."_  
  
 _"Hm." Mrs. Branwell sounded disbelieving, kind of how Isabelle's mother sounded when her brothers tried to deny raiding her stash of expensive chocolate. "Okay dear. But you know that you can tell me if someone hurts you and it isn't an accident? I promise you won't get in trouble."_  
  
 _Clarissa swallowed visibly, but nodded. The pair started back toward the classroom and Isabelle retreated to her desk, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth and a pit settling in her stomach._

* * *

"You're going to talk to Mrs. Branwell, right Daddy?" Robert glanced in the rearview mirror, meeting his daughter's gaze. Her brows were drawn together and her bottom lip was swollen from where she'd been biting it.  
  
"Of course, sweetheart." He gave her his best reassuring smile, even though he wasn't sure what, if anything, the school would be able to do with his concern. He pulled into the parking lot and took Isabelle's hand as they headed into the office.   
  
The first thing he noticed were the puffy eyes of the secretary and the half-empty box of tissues by her keyboard. She looked up when they came in, offering a watery smile.  
  
"Good morning, Mr. Lightwood," she sniffled. "What can we do for you today?"  
  
"I have an appointment with Principal Starkweather."  
  
"Of course," the secretary nodded, dabbing at the corner of her eyes with yet another tissue. "I'm sure he's expecting you, but we've had some unexpected news to handle this morning. Let me just check." She disappeared down the short hallway behind the desk, leaving Robert and Isabelle to take a seat in the faded lounge chairs by the window. They'd barely settled when the secretary reappeared, beckoning to Robert. He squeezed Isabelle's knee.  
  
"Wait here for me, okay?" Isabelle nodded, fiddling with one of the magazines on the side table. Robert followed the secretary down the hallway to a door standing about halfway open. He nodded his thanks, tapping lightly on the door.  
  
"Come in," said a reedy voice.

Hodge Starkweather had been the principal of the local elementary school for twice as long as the Lightwood children had been attending it and in all that time, Robert had never seen a sign that it aged him in the slightest.  
  
Until now.  
  
His eyes were red rimmed behind smudged up glasses and his hair was mussed from tugging and running his fingers through it. His jacket was thrown over the back of his chair and his shirt was only loosely tucked into his slacks. Worry lined his face, as if he'd been frowning for hours straight before Robert arrived. Robert shut the office door behind him, clearing his throat and pulling up a chair across from the principal.  
  
"Hodge," he began, pausing to choose his words carefully. "I'm here about a student in my daughter's class. Isabelle told me some concerning things, but I only know the girl's first name...Clarissa."  
  
Hodge bowed his head. When he looked up, his eyes were misty. "There's no need, Robert."  
  
"You haven't even heard what I have to say." Robert frowned, leaning forward in his chair. "Have there been other...concerns?"  
  
"Not exactly." Hodge pinched his nose and sighed. "Her name was Clarissa Morgenstern."  
  
Robert's heart sank faster than lead into the sea. "Was?"

* * *

When Robert emerged from the principal's office, the lobby was playing host to a gaggle of administrators. Some had tears in their eyes or on their cheeks; others seemed to be in shock. Robert rejoined his daughter, who tugged on his sleeve.  
  
"Why does everybody look so sad?" She whispered. Robert swallowed, though it did nothing to help the lump that was growing in his throat. "Daddy? Is Clarissa going to be okay?"  
  
At that, his tears spilled over. He reached over and lifted Isabelle onto his lap, stroking her hair as he tried to figure out how to break the news.  
  
"Clarissa won't be at school today," he finally said, heart breaking at the confused wrinkle that crossed Isabelle's face.  
  
"Oh. Will she be back tomorrow?"  
  
"No, baby." Robert gently cupped his daughter's face with his hands. "Clarissa—she doesn't have to lie anymore. No one—no one helped her in time.” Robert took a deep breath, bracing himself. “She's gone to be with Jesus, to be an angel now."  
  
Isabelle's confusion morphed into a shattering look of sadness as tears welled up in her eyes. Her lip wobbled and Robert pulled her close, rocking her back and forth as she sobbed.  
  
"Why, Daddy? Why did Clarissa lie?"


End file.
